“Damage Control”
Diana knew a great number of marital arts, she could wield a sword better than most men of this era, and knew at least fifteen different ways to kill at man. Yet at this precise moment she was pinned to the wall of a Greek Villa by two large bone spines, one lodged into her shoulder, it’s long tip chipping the wall behind it as Diana tried to pull herself away; whilst the other was pinning her to the wall of the villa through her right thigh. Her jaw was clamped so tight she could feel the ache and the pain from her teeth. She would not show pain, despite the advance of the two creatures that had detained her. The manticores prowled around her, their claws dripping with the Pseudo-blood that coagulated and lazily oozed from her back. The pole that she was using for both defence and offence had bite and scratch marks across its surface as well as weakened points. Diana was sure this wasn’t going to end well. Diana was correct. She had dispatched the Manticores with some difficulty; receiving heavy damage to her Torso and arms; the scratches were deep, and the blood was almost completely caked over her skin. The groove grew deeper with every impact from her current assailants. The Harpies hung in the air like Green bullets, plummeting towards Diana who was currently protecting herself from harm using dustbin lids to fend the creatures away. Diana wasn’t used to hiding behind things and, in truth, she felt awkward and low on confidence. Though that was not to be unexpected, as she had felt demoralized and hurt from the moment the Gods had disavowed her. Not even the words of Superman could appease their rage. She couldn’t wait any longer. Frustration tore at her guts like feral beasts scratching at their cages. She felt sick with fear of the future and her task at hand. Before this there was nothing that she couldn’t achieve. She knew arrogance wasn’t something that the Gods encouraged in humans, or even their servants, but she was designed by Gods and this had happened to her more than once before. Perhaps to believe that she could get out of this was more than fooling herself; after all, this may be the turning point in her quest, where things become easier and the hurdles are over come by skill, humility and, most of all, righteousness. The Harpies screeched and dug their talons into her shoulder blade, ripping a chunk of Clay free, as her arm hung loosely at her side. She’d just lost a shoulder blade. The Horns of the Minotaur were perfect to hold onto as Diana dug her heels into the creatures back. She tried to steer it, but a creature of that power pulled her exactly where it wanted to go, rather than vice versa. It was difficult to hold on when one arm was essentially useless and the Minotaur was very strong. Diana shot off its back and hit a wall, sending chunks of herself scattering onto the floor. Dazed and slightly confused she gathered parts of herself up from the ground. Rock. She was made of Rock. It had taken a long time for her to remember WHY she was made of Rock, but now that she did, she couldn’t help but feel this was an advantage. After all, she couldn’t feel pain as rock could she? She could not die and she could not be defeated. She was so stupid to have not thought of it before--mind over matter, a simple game of wills. She wanted this more than the God’s did; she needed it more than the Minotaur. After all, the world didn’t depend on them it depended on her, and she would not give that up for nothing. Her fist rebounded off the beast chest and her wrist cracked as several meta-tarsal and her forearm bones were broken in fifteen separate places. She wailed in pain. The sprout of doubt had taken root in Diana’s mind, growing and blossoming into something that was gradually taking control over her actions. Why bother if she was just going to get hurt badly? The Minotaur, the Harpies, even the Manitcores, they all took more out of her than she could possibly have thought, and now she was facing something that would have taken all of her skill and power to defeat anyway. The Cyclopes reared up, throwing its massive stone mace down into the ground and sending shockwaves that knocked Diana off her feet. Twisting on her scratched and gravel worn back, she rolled her legs around out of the way just in time for the Sword to miss her knees by mere inches. Vaulting to her feet again, she took the opportunity to leap and run up the Cyclops arm, her confidence returning, doubts signing in the back of her mind. She could do this. She would do this. A cross kick to the eye destabilized the monster as it threw its sword backwards, cutting into it’s own shoulder flesh as Diana deftly moved out of the way, her good arm pushing against the very tip of the blade to shift herself and steady her feet. The head of the monster turned enough for its peripheral vision to clearly see what she was planning next. Pulling her fist back and twisting her wrist she intended to punch the beast in the eye enough times that it would each fall unconscious or that she would be able to cause some permanent damage. Her fist flew and she felt once again the rush of battle, the raw power at her hands. Perhaps this final beast would provide the evidence she needed to prove to the Gods that she was indeed their champion…their emissary and protector in this world of heathen idealism. She felt a sharp stab and then nothing as she twisted her muscles to pull in her fist, only there was nothing left from the elbow downwards. The Cyclops had twisted its head upwards and bitten down on her arm; in her weakened state she had not noticed and its sharp incisors had tightly nipped the end of her limb. She fell off the creature’s shoulder and landed heavily in the dirt. She didn’t move, the shock slowly creeping down her body like a cold sweat. She coughed once and pulled her legs into the foetal position. The Cyclops simply continued on its way, the wounded Animal would not prove much of a threat against it now. It would harry nobody. All Diana could do was swallow the ball of self-hatred and reject that lodged itself in her throat. She was a failure. The Gods had been watching. Zeus sat on his emerald throne, huge arms crossed across each other, as Diana struggled against beast after beast. A smile slowly wound its way around his features, twisting the corners of his lips into more of a snarl. He leaned forward and let out a short, curt, evil laugh of smug glee as Diana’s petrified arm crumbled as it impacted with the ground below her. Her screams of panic and pain filled him with righteous pleasure. He was not an evil God, by any stretch of the imagination, but the modern world grew past the natural order, something which Zeus grew increasingly more disappointed in. Crusades were fought on intellectual and economic grounds these days, with no place for survival or for challenges. Diana had failed; she was loosing a battle against only a handful of opponents. She had defied and disrupted the natural order of things and now it was time to try and right the wrongs she had wrought. Zeus’ burning face appeared before the cracked and grey skinned Diana. Her face was covered in deep grooves as though her sculptor had suffered from a seizure during his creation of her head. Her good eye, on the left side widened, whilst the cracks that ran along her right caused the fission of Zeus into fractured warped versions of himself. “Diana, though you have tried to solve the problems you have caused, you are in no fit state to continue, thus I have decided, upon much deliberation, that you are to be permanently relieved of your role as Wonder Woman. From these last two days of your struggling and turmoil, it is clear that you are a faithful servant to the Gods; however, it would be negligent and erroneous for me to allow you to continue to serve us. Go Forth into the human world and be at peace, Diana Prince, your War has ended.” The smug face of Zeus flickered away, leaving Diana, leaning against a wall, unable to walk properly because of the gradual cracking of her left leg. A cut so deep that it was snaking smaller fissures around the leg with every movement she made. She slid down the wall slowly, the rough edges of her skin against the brick and mortar left a grey scrape against the surface of the building, chunks rolling off her arm and falling onto the ground underneath her like a carpet of pebbles. Tears rolled down her cheeks, wetting the surface of the porous stone, which instantly absorbed the moisture, sucking it back into her body. She had nothing now. Nothing more. The hospital was clean and quiet, a Rarity for where she was in Greece. The ceilings were stark and bare, devoid of anything save the occasional fly or other insect touching against it, trying to find a way out of the stuffy ward. The air was thick with heat and the nurses were running around frantically trying to support other patience, whilst the Stone woman lay in her bed. Nobody knew who she was and she was both simultaneously distraught and relieved with that information. Nobody would know her shame. But nobody would know she died. She tried to roll over on her bed, but found herself unable to. Her body was breaking down slowly but surely, and hopelessness was ebbing at her mind. This was the end, most defiantly, as her single remaining arm dropped helplessly, making contact with the ground below and generating tiny sparks of stone crashing against stone. Fire is often the ignition for many reactions, both chemical and mental. In this case, the sparks that were created from her touching the earth created a connection on both a mental and physical plane. Diana’s mind was transported across time and space into the Centre of the World; away from humans, and hospitals, beyond gods and monsters, beyond the concepts of life and death. She stood dwarfed by the enormous woman in front of her. She was beautiful despite not being made of the conventional flesh associated with beauty by human ideas. Her surface was rocky and craggy; her tight and dangerously sharp facial features gave way to softer slopes across the body, each surface a different habitat, each surface a different aspect of her. Across her breasts great forests rolled, with rivers that cascaded to rocky outcroppings across her hips and down her legs. Her huge arms held whole deserts and across her back draped long, flowing hair made from stands of snowy tundra. Her eyes burned with molten fire as she slowly but surely moved closer towards Diana, bending down as her entire body, seemingly the entire world, creaked and protested against this movement. Diana was awestruck…no, dumbstruck with what was occurring. Her voice was a sirens call of serenity, soft, cool water lapping against a gentle shore, the feel of a small breeze against perspiring skin. “Diana Prince. I am Maya.” Her words spoke volumes to Diana; every note was a subtle inclination of compassion or unknown knowledge. Her words were kind and filled her broken body with warmth, almost remoulding her. “You have been wronged by the children of Faith.” The world around her creaked and for the first time Diana saw that the scenery around Maya was very much alive. Millions, upon millions of animals and plants moved around her like a forest of flesh and bark, tumbling towards Diana as an almost steady flow of creatures. “Pay not heed to them, Diana. They are the Remnants of Gods and Demi-Creatures that have long since been forgotten.” “Why are they not above?” Diana asked, and for the life of her she could not imagine why those beasts above were set free but these kind hearted, loving looking creatures existed down below, away from the eyes of man. “They are and will never be known to human minds, Diana. These are the Natural Gods, from the Clam Kings to the Virus Overlords. They exist and are forgotten as species die out, or move on.” “…I never knew that animals were capable of this.” “Not just Animals, Diana. Rocks, Waves, Winds and Fires burn here, their Gods all toil away at my side, acting as guides to the Parliaments and in turn to me.” She leaned backwards, huge hands scooping up droves of Godlings as they crawled, twisted and flew through the forests and fields that covered her body, whilst the enormous, stony faced woman sat down on a tiny island in the centre of a huge waterfall, underneath a tree even larger than she. “Diana, you are here because I am going to offer you an opportunity.” “What sort of opportunity?” “I am Maya, spirit of the Earth, she from which Gaea and Rhea draw their powers. My skin is the plates of the Earth, my soul is the water on which they float, and you have been wronged by elements that were created by the creatures that live on my skin.” “The gods and humans?” Diana asked cautiously. “Correct.” “And your opportunity?” She sat down on a nearby rock, instantly feeling it mould to her shape. She got up slightly shocked by it, but the rock simply bounced back to its normal shape, almost as if it were a giant mushroom. “A chance to make things right again, Diana, but sacrifices will need to be made.” “What kind?” she questioned, drawing her eyebrows together pensively. “You will not be returned to how you were, Diana. You will have to turn your back on what you were to make amends.” “How can I make amends with something if I am turning my back to it?” “Sometimes, to regain something, you must give it away, Diana. You’re failure and disappointment is compounding your inability to do anything. You think you will fail because you have once or twice, but now…now you can succeed again, if only you are willing to look past the limited world view that the supposed Gods have given you.” “Limited world view?” “Yes. You see things in terms of a warrior seeing a battle, or a philosopher seeing a challenge, of a diplomat seeing a confrontation. You do not see how things are as woman, nor a human. You are a pawn of the Gods; they mould you to their needs and you do not even see it.” “You are wrong, Earth soul, I am my own person.” “Diana of Themisycra, you are not. You are exactly as I stated. Diana of Themisycra, not Diana Prince.” Diana opened her mouth to respond, but took a moment to consider what she was saying as the realization washed over her. Perhaps the Gods and even the needs of man had washed over her, slowly eroding what she originally was to make her more compliant with their needs. She always seemed to be rushing from place to place, amending and reacting to things, but never preventing or deciding. Perhaps it was time for her to change? “Earth soul. Tell me more.” To Be Continued... Previous Issue | Next Issue |
